


When Morning Comes

by river_soul



Category: Doom (2005)
Genre: F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/river_soul/pseuds/river_soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and John on the run from the UAC. Takes place after the movie ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Morning Comes

She sits outside on the porch reading from an old leather book by the light of a dying candle as she waits for him. The moon is high and full and she realizes they’ve been in this place for nearly three month without so much of a whisper of the past. She should be thankful but it makes her uneasy and John is late. John is _never_ late and there is a sense of frustration in not knowing where he is.

Life has weighed heavily on him since they left India in a hurry four months ago and the chasm that has opened up between them since then leaves her without the courage to ask. Her weakness in light of his strength is maddening and no matter how hard she tries to find the words _Where do you go on nights like these? Why don’t you talk to me anymore_? they fail her at the sight of him. _Coward_ she thinks.

The sun is just rising over the crashing waves and the sand glows pink when she finally hears the engine cut in the driveway. She closes the book in her lap, finding a discarded scrap of paper to hold her place as she touches the cold cup of tea at her right. She can hear the pebbles crunch below his feet and then the thud of his boots on the wooden deck and counts his steps. 

He’s halfway to the door but when he sees her sitting on the rocking chair he stops, face in the shadows. “Sam.” He says and she can hear his displeasure at seeing her there. His eyes jump from her face to the book in her hand to rest on the blanket she’s draped over her bare legs. “How long have you been waiting?”

“A bit,” she says, knowing better then to approach him. “I made coffee and-” 

“Sam,” he cuts her off. “Go inside.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child John,” she starts; standing in an effort to cement what little authority she has over him. 

“Sam.” There is a dark warning in his voice but she is angry now. This has been too long coming and Sam takes a step towards him, still trying to make out his face in the shadows. “Stay back,” he says and her face, for only a moment, softens with remembrance before she pushes him back two steps and into the light.

She regrets the surprised noise she makes at the sight of him. He flinches, dried blood crinkling as his skin does and she can taste his shame. “I had to,” he says and she nods, knowing how careful he is. “He was going to report back to them and I had to Sam, I had to.” 

“I know,” she says but she doesn’t. She can’t because he won’t let her. 

He steps forward suddenly and the front of his shirt glistens wetly with blood she knows isn’t his. His hands are empty but she can see the outline of the slim handgun against his hip as he moves inside the house, throwing the rest of his bloodied form into sharp relief. When he passes her she tries not to shudder, not to be reminded of Olduvai and the copper tang of his blood. 

He sits in the rickety chair in their run down kitchen and there is weariness in the set of his shoulders that has nothing to do with physical fatigue as she turns to the sink. He removes his shirt and she takes a warm cloth and bowl of water to his side and washes his face. Her touch is gentle and soft and she can feel the weight of his eyes on her. This isn’t the first time she’s cleaned another mans blood from her brother and she knows it won’t be the last but she does it because he needs this. Needs her approval, her benediction for what he does and because he asks so little of her she does what she would not for any other man.

When the water in the bowl before her turns a familiar shade of pink she drops the washcloth and meets his eyes. _You don’t know me_ they tell her and for a moment she thinks _no I don’t_ but then she remembers his smile, laughter and teasing grin and the sensation passes. “I know you,” she says again and kisses him on the forehead before helping him to the shower. “I’ll make you some breakfast and pack,” she says and he nods. They can’t risk staying here another night she realizes.


End file.
